I Was Scared and I'm Sorry
by marvelandimagine
Summary: Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader. Both you and Vladimir struggle to fight the feelings you have for each other until the truth all comes tumbling out in an unexpected way. **Title from The Wonder Years' song, lyrics from Neck Deep's "Rock Bottom"**
1. Chapter 1

_But I know you're chasing something, or has what you wanted got you scared and running? And I know you're missing something, because I felt it there that night, and caught you blushing._

"Volodya," you huffed out exasperatedly, tugging at the blond's scarred and tattooed hand. "All you've been doing lately is drinking in your office alone or going to the same overrated club to fuck variations of the same girls. How is that possibly fun?!"

Vladimir pulled out of your grip and rounded on you, an irritated look crossing his face. "How do you know what women I fuck?"

You snickered. "Tolya told me he can hear their heels and smell the clouds of perfume from down the hall. Not to judge." You paused and grinned wickedly as he swore under his breath. "And I heard all about the false eyelash fiasco that left you mentally scarred for life. What was her name? Star?"

"That is it, out, now," the blond growled, trying to push you out the door as you dug your heels against the concrete with resistance. You waited a second before spinning around, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly and laughing as he staggered back from the impact. You felt your stomach flip involuntarily as you breathed in his cologne and felt his muscles tense instinctively. "You smell good, Volodya. Loving this cologne!" you murmured playfully, your voice muffled against the soft blue fabric.

You didn't see it, but his cheeks started growing red at your words. "The fuck are you doing, crazy?!" he sputtered.

You looked up at him with a determined gaze. "I'm not letting go until you agree to come out with me tonight! You've bailed on me for 2 weekends in a row and I miss partying with you. "I have work" is not an excuse when we work at the same place and I know what work you have."

Y/N," he growled threateningly, trying to pry you off him and failing.

You chuckled. "You watched me win a pull up contest against Sergei, shithead, you think my arms are gonna wimp out that quick?" You squeezed tighter and that was it.

"Fine, I go!"

You released your hold with a triumphant smirk and patted his cheek as he looked at you with an odd expression of annoyance and amusement – and was that a little bit of nervousness you saw? You kept your hand on his cheek, surprised at how warm it was. "God damn, you need to hit the gym, look at you all red from trying to pry my 130 something-pound ass off," you said teasingly with a smirk. Vladimir scowled and your face fell for a moment. "Seriously, Vlad is it some kind of punishment to hang out with me outside of work suddenly?" You said with a harsh laugh.

Vladimir shook his head quickly, looking at you earnestly with his blue eyes. "Nyet. It is not that." You stared at him, waiting for an elaboration. You knew he wasn't one to talk about how he felt, and up until now you had played it off like it wasn't bothering you, but you were a bit hurt that he was bailing on plans to go out with you to drink alone or fuck strippers.

You and Vladimir had grown close since joining the Russians a few months back to help them expand the distribution of Gao's product to wealthier clients across the city and abroad. You and Anatoly got along well right away – he was the one who brought you on and liked you right away, admiring your sweetness coupled with a ferocity that rivaled that of his brother's when it came to speaking your mind. You weren't intimidated by him or Vladimir; you would tell them when they weren't handling business as efficiently as they could or when they were just being assholes.

Unlike his brother, Vladimir didn't take so kindly to any constructive criticism. He hated being told how to do his job, and he hated it even more when you did come up with better business strategies than he did. After the first week, however, his agitation dissipated entirely when you skipped into his office triumphantly with a list of 30 or so filthy rich clients you had scored and he couldn't help it, he was impressed and extremely thrilled– and kind of turned on. Vladimir felt himself smiling, a rare thing for him these days. You smiled back. He offered you a drink and you spent the next few hours getting drunk contentedly with him and Tolya, loving whenever you could get the blond's scarred face to light up with a smile or even laugh.

You liked Vladimir a lot. You weren't stupid; you knew he was dangerous, had major problems with emotional intimacy and had a nasty temper. But you also knew that he always asked how your day was and that his smile gave you butterflies, that you liked the banter you two had, that you loved being around him and you liked how adventurous he was. You noticed how his eyes lit up like a child when he was excited and that he would talk comically faster, that he was actually pretty smart and insightful, that he would punch out any men he caught making obscene comments about your body and that he was fiercely devoted to the rare few he let in – Anatoly was enough proof of that.

He found himself noticing things about you as well. He still had the picture of you and him on his iPhone from that night; you had snatched it from him and rested your chin on his shoulder while you smiled happily, yelling out "Now I have TWO Russian crime lord best friends!" It made you sad that he only really had his brother, you liked making sure that he knew someone else cared about him. Now that he had put his stubborn pride aside, your humor and passion, your sincerely caring and slightly reckless nature were all made clear to him and he found that he liked it. really, really liked it.

At first, he didn't think anything of it, just told himself that he just thought you were hot and smart and an off limits work associate. But the more time you spent together in and out of work sober or drunk – throwing knives at a dartboard while you talked about shipments, running and giggling through Times Square together with a handle of vodka, backing each other up in any bar fights, sitting in his office going over paperwork with takeout, watching your body hungrily as you dragged him off to dance at a crowded party– the more he found himself wanting you. But not just in a physical sense, it was deeper than that. It was an emotional, yearning, encompassing kind of want, could he call it love? He had never felt like this. Whatever it was, it scared the Russian crime lord to death.

And two weeks ago, you had found him in his office in a fury about the masked man, his blue eyes shining as he blinked furiously and screamed at you to get out. But you didn't. You approached him gently, grabbing his a hand and talking to him until he calmed down – Tolya was the only one he thought could do that. He had never seen anyone but Tolya look at him like that – like he deserved to be cared for – and as you pulled him into a hug, he found himself almost saying three words and panicked. So he bailed on plans with you while he tried to figure out how to control the way he felt – but he didn't know if he ever would be able to.

"Vladimir," you said sharply, watching him pull himself out of whatever thought he was having. He exhaled and looked at your pained face, feeling a twinge in his heart as he lied about why he was really avoiding you. "I think I love you and I don't know what to do," he thought to himself bitterly. But what came out of his mouth was, "Just been stressed with shipments delayed because of that fucking masked prick running around. It is not your fault. I am sorry I upset you, that was not my intention."

Your gaze softened and you nodded. "It's ok, Vlad. I just didn't know if I did something to piss you off." He shook his head and chuckled. "You know I let you know when you piss me off." You laughed. "This is true. But hey, now you can enjoy the weekend and come have fun with me!" You gave him an exaggerated grin and did your best spirit fingers, laughing as he smiled and shook his head at your antics. You stood on tiptoe and mussed up his spiky blond hair. You grinned coyly. "Smile more, Volodya. It looks good on you."

Without waiting for a reaction, you pushed your Ray Bans down over your eyes and headed out the door. "Be at my apartment at like 9:30, OK?" You called back as you looked at your phone nonchalantly, somehow keeping your voice even a smile broke across your face, turning to a sigh. You knew how you felt about Vladimir, but you weren't stupid – he wasn't exactly a relationship kind of guy. What was the point of telling him how you felt if it would just make things more complicated? You didn't need anymore heartbreak and you liked what you two had now. So you kept your feelings to yourself and settled for enjoying your friendship and his company – and throwing in sly flirtations and compliments along the way.

As soon as you shut the door, Vladimir turned to the couch and fell on it facedown, screaming into one of the cushions. He sat up suddenly and hit Anatoly's name on his phone and chewed at his lip. "Tolya, come to the office," he fired off in Russian. He hesitated. "I need your help, brother."


	2. Chapter 2

Anatoly strode quickly into the office, startled at the sight of Vladimir lying face down on the couch. "Volodya!" he cried sharply, moving to shake his brother.

Vladimir sat up right away, trying to appear nonchalant and asking in his native tongue, "What took you so long, asshole?"

Anatoly narrowed his eyes. "What is the problem here?"

Vladimir inhaled and rubbed his upper arm awkwardly. His brother stared at him, further thrown off by this uncharacteristic sign of apprehension. He sat down next to him, clamping a scarred hand onto the blond's muscled shoulder. "Whatever it is, we face together, yes?"

Vladimir snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Not this time. This is my problem to handle. I just … I need advice."

Anatoly looked at his younger brother curiously. It was so unlike Vladimir to ask for help on anything, let alone to feel so genuinely troubled that he would willingly reach out. Anatoly nodded. "OK. What's up?"

Vladimir leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. "It's Y/N," he muttered through his fingers.

"What?" Tolya asked, unable to decipher his brother's mumbled statement.

"Y/N," Vladimir yelled out in frustration, standing up and starting to pace around the room. Anatoly tilted his head slightly as he watched Vladimir and snickered.

Vladimir glared at him. "The fuck are you laughing at?"

Anatoly gave him an infuriatingly knowing look. "Nothing," he said with a small smile. "Please, continue. What exactly about her is the problem?"

Vladimir made a noise of frustration. Anatoly's smile only widened and he chuckled, narrowly dodging the shot class his brother threw at him. "Relax, Volodya. Everyone here knows how much you like Y/N. I approve. She is good for you. She will not take your bullshit."

Vladimir sputtered. "What do you mean everyone knows –– I never said-"  
Anatoly cut him off with a raised hand. "You didn't have to. I know you are not the best with your emotions, baby brother, but any fool can see how much happier you are when she's around. I mean, the way you smile at her," Anatoly laughed. "I am glad that you finally found a woman that you like this much."

Vladimir didn't respond immediately, walking slowly back to the couch and leaning his head against the headrest with his eyes closed. He felt Anatoly sink in next to him. Vladimir breathed out heavily and opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "So … say you are right. What do I do about it? I just … Tolya, I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?" Anatoly pressed.

Vladimir could feel his brother observing him intently, but he refused to make eye contact. He paused. "Like …" the fingers on his tattooed, rough hand tapped at the couch nervously as he struggled for the words. "She's more than just a girl to fuck. Not that we have, but, I mean, I want to but, shit," he exhaled, covering his face with his hands for a second. Anatoly looked at him patiently. "I want more than that. She makes me laugh, Tolya. I have fun with her. She's smart and caring but she can kill a man in about four seconds. She is not –– not scared to be who she is. And she's not scared of me." The corner of Vladimir's mouth pulled up. "I want to be with her. Only her." He swallowed. "And I want her to feel the same about me."

Silence. Vladimir shifted his head slightly to finally look at his brother. "So?"

Anatoly gave him a sad smile. "Well, that explains those fucking hookers. You were running from how you felt about Y/N, no?"

Vladimir's fingers kept tapping as he nodded. "I thought I could make it stop," he said slowly. "That I could control how I felt. But I don't think I can. The other day when you were at shipments, I was screaming at her but she didn't leave. She stayed. And she made me feel better. She cares, Tolya. I don't know why, but she does. And I like it. I like her. I almost told her that I –" he stopped suddenly, biting on his lip.

Anatoly looked at his younger brother understandingly. "You love her, don't you?" Vladimir didn't say anything, but the look of helplessness on his face was enough confirmation for Anatoly. Vladimir had never really wanted any serious relationship with a woman, always feeling that they would tie him down––for him to talk about only wanting you and how strongly he felt, Anatoly knew his brother was sincere and genuinely overwhelmed with this new territory.  
"I don't know what to do, Tolya," he said miserably.  
Anatoly laughed. "Brother, no man ever does when he falls this hard. It is normal for us to try to run from that shit." He smiled wrly. "Problem is that it doesn't work."

Vladimir stared at his brother confusedly. Anatoly grimaced and continued. "You remember Katarzyna, no?" Vladimir's mind flashed back to Moscow when he and Anatoly were in their late teens––Anatoly had been friends with a pretty blonde girl, Katarzyna, for a while. Vladimir never questioned it when he stopped seeing them together; assuming that his brother had simply gotten bored or she had moved away.

He nodded at Anatoly. "What about her?"

Anatoly rubbed his neck, this time the one avoiding eye contact with his brother. "She was it. The way you talk about Y/N––that's how I felt about her. Except, I don't think she would or could ever kill a man." He smiled, lost in his reverie. "I knew how I felt about her, but I was too much of a pussy to tell her. And then she met a guy and went off with him to St. Petersburg. We texted a bit but lost touch. I saw her a few years later at that red coffee place near Anton's––I couldn't believe it, that she was there. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. And she saw me and almost tackled me with her hug and everything I had ever wanted to say just came out. But she was already married. And you know what the worst part was? She said that if she knew how I felt, things might have been different between us."

He paused, finally looking at Vladimir, who looked back at his older brother with a pained expression. Anatoly gave him a sad smile and patted his face with a chuckle. "No, none of that. You want to make me feel better, Volodya? Go tell Y/N how you feel about her. Fuck, kiss her already! Just don't make the same fucking mistake I did. I've done a lot of stupid shit––you know this––" he paused as both of them laughed. "But not telling Kat that I wanted to be with her was probably the stupidest. When you find a woman who makes you feel like that, you man the fuck up and tell her. Otherwise, you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what could've been."

Vladimir nodded slowly. "I am seeing Y/N tonight, so maybe–"

Anatoly grabbed his brother's shoulders in exasperation and laughed as he shook him comically. "SO YOU WILL TELL HER HOW YOU WANT TO BE WITH HER, THERE IS NO MAYBE, VOLODYA!"

"OK, OK!" Vladimir said hurriedly. "But keep texting me to make sure I do it." He breathed out loudly. "Fuck. This is actually happening." He laughed and let out a strangled yell into his hands.

Anatoly pulled his younger brother into a headlock, beaming at him as he ruffled his fluffy blond strands. "You can do this, Volodya. You will be happy you did. I know this for sure," he said with a grin. "Y/N says you give the nicest hugs that she's ever had and that, ah, what was it, "too good-looking to be real."

Vladimir felt his heartbeat quicken involuntarily and he tried to suppress the smile he felt across his scarred visage. "She didn't say that, fucker."

Anatoly shoved his brother. "The fuck would I lie about that?! We stayed late that one night after she crushed Sergei in that pull up contest. We were both trashed and she started saying how much she wished you had stayed with us."

Vladimir couldn't help himself, a full-fledged smile appeared this time.

"Awww," Anatoly said teasingly as Vladimir flipped him off.

"Shut up, Tolya!"

The brothers stood up and in a rare moment of affection, Vladimir hugged his brother quickly. "Thank you, Tolya."

Anatoly clapped his brother's back. "We are always there for each other, you know this." They broke apart and Anatoly smiled widely. "Now go and get ready, you've got a girl to catch tonight and you need to look better than that."

Vladimir rolled his eyes but grinned back, grabbing his jacket and walk-running out the door, filled with a newfound sense of assurance, his heart racing as he thought of how he was going to finally show you how he felt.


	3. Chapter 3

You put the tube of deep red lipstick down on the counter as you sang along loudly to one of your favorite Bearhands songs blaring from your Bluetooth speakers: _"Go sell that shit somewhere farther from the heart. Running and running and running and stop, come on, we both knew this thing would be hard. I see art, you see class. You think, you ask. You say "Darling am I a chore?" I said I know you love me, I am loving you more."_

You did a quick spin in time with the music, smiling as you walked out of the bathroom, your black heels clacking when they hit the rich hardwood floor in your loft. You went into your room to take a quick glance at yourself in your full length mirror. Satisfied with the reflection––especially how well the ripped, dark denim hugged your body––you walked back out toward the living room, but paused suddenly as you suddenly remembered an important task you neglected.

 _"Whoops, can't go out without my meds,"_ you thought to yourself, turning back to the bathroom to look for your orange bottle of prescription anxiety medication. You frowned, it wasn't in its usual place. You scanned the floor and opened the cabinet, seeing if you had misplaced it. Nothing.

You swore irritably, moving into your room and shaking out your comforter to see if the pills were there. You waited for a sound against the hardwood floor to no avail, now starting to panic slightly. Without those pills, you knew how your thoughts would speed up, how the slightest touch could set you off, how you would want to claw out of your skin amidst the sensory overload and probable full-fledged anxiety attack––and you were about to head out to God knows how many crowded bars and clubs with the guy you deeply, deeply liked who had no idea about your mental illness. And you intended to keep it that way.

As if you weren't stressing enough, you suddenly heard your apartment door open––you forgot to lock it again––and heard excited barking coupled with Vladimir's laugh and murmured Russian––normally, you would smile knowing he was already playing with your German Shepherd Koda, but his arrival exacerbated your growing anxiety.

" _No no no fuck, I am not telling Vladimir about this, he's going to think I'm weak and crazy and that I can't do my job and he won't like me anymore and it'll be a shitshow,"_ you thought frantically. " _It's one night, just hold it together and you can look in the morning. You'll be ok, girl. You've survived worse. And remember, he wants to be here. He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do._ "

You took a deep inhale and exhale, taking one last look in the mirror as your pulse quickened with anticipation and anxiety. You still managed a smile, however, walking into your living room and sliding down to curb Koda back from knocking the Russian crimelord over with his unbridled enthusiasm. "Sorry Koda baby, I have a playdate with Volodya tonight, not you," you crooned as you dragged his collar backward.

You glanced up to see Vladimir smiling at you crookedly, your heart catching as you took in his toned physique accentuated by the dark dress shirt he was wearing––the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. "Playdate?" he asked with a grin.

You gave an exaggerated sigh as you smirked. "You act like a child 90 percent of the time, so I think it's acc–" before you finished, Koda turned sharply and knocked you off balance. "Goddammit, Koda," you yelled through laughs, your face wrinkling as his tongue licked your face.

Vladimir sat down next to you, petting Koda behind the ears. "Good boy, knocking down Y/N when she's being a brat," he said, the smirk in his voice evident. Koda seemed satisfied with Vladimir's praise, wagging his tail and trodding happily over to his extensive blanket pile in the corner and settling down.

"Traitor," you grumbled after your dog, turning to then smack Vladimir lightly on the chest. "I'm not a brat, asshole, I just enjoy banter."

He rolled his eyes as you stood up, brushing Koda's hair off your jeans. He sat there, his 6' something frame sprawled out across your floor and looking up at you with an unreadable expression.

"What?" you asked, half laughing in confusion.

"Nothing … I mean …, nothing."

You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows. "Don't give me that shit, Vladimir. It's clearly something!"

Vladimir pulled himself up, walking past you toward your bar cart. His own heart racing as he cursed internally at his cowardice, unable to make eye contact with you as he ran his hand across the myriad of bottles. "You just look really nice tonight," he blurted out quickly.

If you could have melted into a surprised puddle on the ground, you would've. You hid it shockingly well, however, mentally congratulating yourself as you went over to accept the drink he had poured out for you. "Aw thanks, Volodya, you clean up pretty nice yourself," you said lightly even though you wanted to jump up and down.

You looked at him and felt something in the room change, a kind of tension between the two of you that neither of you seemed totally willing to address. _"Of course this happens the night I'm anxious as fuck already and can't flirt for shit. I could totally tell him how I feel today if something like that happens again but I would just ruin everything."_

The moment passed however, when Vladimir hit his glass to yours. "Thanks for making me come out tonight, Y/N."

"Of course, Vova."

You both grinned wickedly as you took generous sips, Vladimir laughing as you instinctively cringed at its fiery taste. _"It's ok. It's all ok,"_ you thought as you took another drink, but as you and Vladimir walked out the door, you wondered how the hell this night would turn out.

* * *

Despite the odd feeling that had passed between you in your apartment, Vladimir continued to act as usual, loosening a bit as the alcohol hit him, making fun of his shithead lieutenants and telling stories about him and Tolya one they first came to the city as he laughed. You loved how animated he got when he was really into something––it was one of the things you loved the most about hanging out with him.

As you both progressed down the brightly lit streets, however, you felt a growing sense of unease without the medication steadying you.

"Y/N?" Vladimir asked, snapping you out of your thoughts when you suddenly realized that you had already arrived at one of your frequented nightclubs.

You looked at him with a smile. "Spaced, sorry, what?"

He nudged your ribs. "Check out the mudak," he said sniggering.

You looked to the left, seeing an over-tan guido trying to flirt with some of the younger girls outside. You and Vladimir would play a game on your nights out, trying to find the douchiest/bitchiest person possible. Loser bought the winner a drink––let's just say Vladimir had bought you a lot of drinks in your nights out together. You had your fair share of shitty hookups and exes––you could spot fuckboys a mile away, but now that you were older, you ran from them instead of toward them. You made a strangled noise of disgust and Vladimir laughed. "Good contender, but the night is young, my friend," you said dramatically moving past the bouncer and into the cacophony before you.

You walked into the packed room and the bartender nodded at Vladimir right away. It was an unspoken agreement there – the scarred Russian simply did not have to wait for drinks when he tipped as good as he did. "Usual?" he said happily into your ear. Your usual was generally a double Long Island, surprising Vladimir as you shook your head no. You knew that without your meds, getting super fucked up was just a recipe for disaster. "Not trying to get wasted tonight. Cuba Libre should be fine." Vladimir made a face and you shoved him playfully––rum was not his thing. "You're not drinking it, shut up. I'll be around here.'" Vladimir nodded as he moved toward the bar.

You frowned at whatever Pitbull bullshit was playing on the speakers––the club normally had a lot better music than this and you were counting on it to distract yourself from the racing in your head. Thankfully, the song ended and the opening notes to David Guetta's "Heroes" started. "Oh thank god," you murmured, your eyes closing with a smile as you leaned your head back against the banister as you started to lose yourself in Tove Lo's sweet vocals and the building beat.

You felt a tap on your arm and opened your eyes to see Vladimir with your drink. "Thank youuuuu," you drawled out appreciatively grabbing the drink out of his hand and sipping immediately. It really was warm in there and you were starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Vladimir opened his mouth to say something but closed it suddenly frowning, his hand moving to his pocket and taking out his phone. He swore loudly in Russian when he looked at the caller ID. He looked at you apologetically. "I have to take this, I'll be right back." You nodded even though your heart sank––being alone in this crowd was not a great idea for you. One hand on his ear and the other holding the phone, Vladimir fired off in angry Russian expletives as you watched him walk up the crowded stairs and outside.

10 minutes passed.

15.

20.

That was it. You had pounded your Cuba Libre to try to loosen up your clenching muscles, but you only felt dizzier and more overwhelmed than before. You had danced with one guy for a minute before getting bored and leaving, now you were stuck in the crowd that had grown increasingly more pressing. "It's OK, just go find Volodya. It'll be fine," you tried to calm yourself as you felt yourself growing more and more panicked as the sensory overload had you anxiously clutching at your hair as you tried to not scream. The problem was that you didn't want to go outside only to find out he was still in there––you didn't think you could physically handle returning to this mess.

Looking around frantically and praying to yourself to find that familiar shock of blond hair, you started moving through the crowd as your breathing picked up. _"Breathe, you need to breathe, everyone is looking at you, stop acting like something's wrong,_ " you thought furiously, frustrating yourself further when you couldn't get a handle on it. Finally, you spotted his scarred visage and nearly tackled him with relief.

"There you are, Y/N! Sergei was being a total fucking¬–" he stopped as he registered the panic on your face. "What's wrong?"

"Can you get me out of here?" you said loudly in his ear, the desperation in your voice apparent.

He looked at you, confused. "But what–"

You cut him off quickly. "Volodya, please," your voice going up slightly.

The unease in your voice unnerved him and he squeezed your hand protectively, keeping a tight hold on you as he plowed through the crowd barring your exit. If you weren't so focused on calming yourself down, you would have laughed at his almost comical negligence for the poor souls around him––none of them anticipating a very intimidating and very tall Russian yelling "MOVE, FUCKERS!" at the top of his lungs in his accented growl.

You shuddered as the bodies jostled against you, the growing, encompassing sense of terror and anger and pain flooding your veins and spinning through your brain. You wanted to tear yourself out of your own skin, to escape, to––

You felt the cool night air hit your face and you closed your eyes with relief, your chest still heaving. You opened your eyes, your gaze falling on a bench across the street. "Can we sit?" You said, still breathing heavily.

"Да." His hand still holding yours, you and Vladimir crossed the street as you power-walked to the bench, collapsing onto the cold metal and hugging your knees into your chest as you tucked your head down, a quiet sob of shame and frustration escaping from you as quickly placed a hand over your mouth and clenched your eyes shut to try to stop the tears from falling.

"Y/N, what is it?"

All you could do was shake your head as you fought to regain control. "I'm so sorry, just give me a minute to get my shit together." You tucked back into your ball, your arms wrapped tightly around your body as you tried to make yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible as you cried.

Suddenly, you felt a hand rubbing consolingly across your back and you felt yourself relaxing slightly out of instinct. It felt good, it felt safe. "дышать, солнишка дышать. Я прямо здесь," he murmured soothingly. He fell to silence but continued to trace his hand across the worn leather of your dark jacket.

You focused on Vladimir's hand running slowly across your back, trying to steady your breathing in time with the movements. After about a minute, you looked up and wiped your eyes quickly, sniffling in and running a hand through your hair.

Your arms still hugging your knees in, you turned your head hesitantly to look at Vladimir, his expression clearly concerned.

"Hi," you said sadly with a half-smile. Vladimir stopped rubbing your back and placed his hand on the backrest of the bench. "What happened in there? What man did this?" he said angrily.

You shook your head, breaking eye contact and staring down. "It wasn't anyone. You're going to think I'm pathetic."

Slowly, you felt your chin tilted up as Vladimir's blue eyes met yours, his expression filled with a tenderness unlike anything you ever saw on his face. "Никогда." Reassured by the sincerity in his voice, you took a deep breath and continued, unclenching yourself from your ball.

"So … fuck, I never wanted to have to explain this. I guess the simplest way is that I have bad anxiety issues … like really bad. I'm on meds so I can control it, so I can keep myself calm and focused for the most part. They help, they stop myself from spinning out like that shitshow you just witnessed. I was worried about coming out to all this tonight because I couldn't find my meds before we left but I didn't not want to go out with you and I didn't want you to know about it anyways. I figured I could handle it," you said quietly, swallowing hard and staring at the ground as tears of shame and frustration filled your eyes. "I was wrong. The crowd just really freaked me out without you there and I just … spun out. I'm sorry, Vova. you probably think I'm fucking crazy now," you muttered. You leaned back and fixed your gaze on the dark night sky.

Vladimir shook his head, his own heartbeat quickening as he tried to steady himself for what he was about to do. "Y/N," he murmured in a surprisingly gentle tone. "You could have told me. I don't care. You're still you. You are still strong."

You felt relief wash over you as you looked at his scarred face, focused on you intently. "Don't think I'm a basket case?" you said with a dry laugh, but the underlying need for reassurance in your voice was there.

He shook his head with a small smile. "Like I said, never. A pain in my ass sometimes. But not crazy."

You laughed shakily and looked at him, taking in those gorgeous blue eyes fixed on yours. "Thanks, Volodya. That means a lot."

Vladimir hesitated for a second before moving slightly closer toward you. Your heartbeat quickened. "Well, you mean a lot to me. I'll stay with you until you feel better." He paused for a second before reaching out his hand tentatively toward your face, gauging your expression as accepting and ran his thumb lightly across your tear-soaked cheek.

You met his gaze with intensity, your heartbeat accelerating as you took in the soft smile on his face unlike anything you had seen before. Was he just comforting you or was this something more? You desperately wanted it to be the latter, but were scared to misinterpret. "You mean a lot to me too," you said softly, your voice cracking a bit, laden with feeling.

You were suddenly very aware of how close your bodies were on the small bench and the warm feeling of the the touch of his knee against yours. You felt that feeling that you had in your apartment––both of you dangerously close to stepping over that edge into something else, new and exhilarating and fucking terrifying.

You looked at his free hand resting on the top of backrest and slowly, but with a deliberative motion, placed your hand on top of his, a sense of elation permeating your senses as his fingers extended up to intertwine with yours. You didn't know it, but the Russian kingpin's heart was beating just as fast as yours as he felt himself consumed with that wonderfully dizzying sense of anticipation. He looked at you for a brief moment as you moved closer to him, savoring the enamored look in your eyes before leaning in to bring his lips to yours; his hand unclasping to place it firmly on the nape of your neck. The intensity of his kiss in contrast to his previous gentleness, left you breathless and hungry for more. You returned the kiss fervently, your fingers tugging at the dark fabric of his shirt as your mouths pressed against the other, breaking apart and together eagerly exploring the new territory. You pulled away first for oxygen and looked at Vladimir, who looked adorably dazed. You smiled at him. "Well that's one way to make me feel better." you murmured with a laugh as you moved to press your lips softly on his once more. Vladimir smiled back, his scarred face lighting up as he looked at you, smoothing your hair away from your face. "I've wanted to do that for awhile." "So why didn't you?" you countered.

Vladimir bit his lip and looked down. Gently, you titled his face toward yours, kissing him lightly. "Vova, it's ok. You can talk to me," you said, running a hand through his hair as he smiled crookedly.

Vladimir nodded slowly. He took a deep breath and he said something you never thought you would hear him say. "I've never felt this way before. I guess I was … scared … by how much I like you. I didn't know what to do … I had to ask Tolya. He told me to balls up and show you how I felt today. I didn't know how I was going to, but right then it just felt … it felt right." he muttered as you looked at him affectionately.

"Well I'm glad one of us finally balls-ed up and made a move finally. Not thrilled that my anxiety attack catalyzed it, but hey, whatever works," you said with a wry smile as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "One of us?" You grabbed his hand and he looked at you hopefully. "Yeah, idiot, why do you think I'm always bugging you to hang out?" you smiled nervously, your head spinning as you struggled to keep your newfound elation in check. To go from an anxiety attack to this? Goddamn. Emotional rollercoaster. "I really, like you too, Volodya. But I don't want to be just another girl you fuck. I can't do that, not with you." Whatever this is here with us, it really does mean something to me. I didn't want to tell you because I was … I don't know," you stopped lamely.

"Scared?" Vladimir finished. You nodded. He looked at you seriously. "I was too. I am." He exhaled deeply and looked at you, feeling himself get more courage as you grabbed his hand. Vladimir's intense gaze met yours and he kissed you again, softer this time but with the same emotion behind it. "This means something to me to, Y/N. I'm not used to that … you know how I usually am." he said nervously. This, how I feel, it's new. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I know I want you, only you. I want … I want us," he exhaled.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying yourself in his shoulder. "I feel the same," you murmured and his arms tightened around you. You breathed him in and felt like you were home.

You broke apart after a few seconds, smiling at each other. "Do you want to come back to my place and keep talking? You can stay over and help me find my meds. But," you said placing a hand on his chest. "We're not fucking until I get a real date first," you said coyly.

Vladimir's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Tomorrow night then."

You burst out laughing, a beautiful change from the terror that had just encompassed you. "That eager to get in my pants? I'll take it, I can't wait to discover all of those tattoos," you purred as you nipped at his ear affectionately and ran a hand down his chest, quickly running ahead of him giggling with your middle fingers up before he could retaliate.

You were pretty fast, but so was Vladimir. He caught up with you and grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around and grabbing your face with both hands as he pressed his lips to yours hard. You broke apart after a few seconds and stared at him, slightly dazed from how good that had felt. "Ok, I can give you that round," you said breathlessly. He smirked. "See? I can do romance." You rolled your eyes but reached for his hand shyly, testing the waters of public affection, and he laced your fingers with yours easily. "Let's see how that date goes before you get that ego boost, sir."

As you walked hand in hand amongst passerby, you looked up at his face to see him look unsure––you forgot he really wasn't used to affection, especially in public. "You really haven't done this before have you?"

He nodded. "Didn't meet a woman worth it until you." He turned to gaze at you before planting a soft kiss on your lips. He pulled back and flagged down an approaching taxi – just so happened to be a Veles.

You looked at him hesitantly. "So at work …" You started slowly. Vladimir cupped your face in his hand and grinned. "красивая, I want every man out there to know who I have by my side."

You beamed at him. "Король и его королева, да?" you murmured into his ear, feeling a thrill run through you as you heard him sigh out contentedly. He slid in the backseat with you, hands still intertwined as you told the driver ––a new recruit named Alexei––your address and you headed off to your apartment.


End file.
